


What’s in a Name?

by farfarawaygirl



Category: The Society (TV 2019)
Genre: F/M, I started with Cassandra, M/M, and now we’re here, they went HARD with these names
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:15:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27377833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farfarawaygirl/pseuds/farfarawaygirl
Summary: Cassandra:the one who shines and excels over manCassandra was a Trojan princess, the daughter of Priam and Hecuba. She was given the gift of prophecy by Apollo, but when she spurned his advances he cursed her so nobody would believe her prophecies.
Relationships: Harry Bingham & Allie Pressman, Harry Bingham/Allie Pressman, Sam Eliot/Gareth "Grizz" Visser
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I started The Society, literally this past weekend, I didn’t think I’d fall this far, this fast. But, here we are. They PICKED these names, and it shows.
> 
> It was cool to see so many people I followed on tumblr or live journal in the dark ages being active in this fandom after years of relative silence.
> 
> Leave a line, share a head cannon!

Cassandra:

the one who shines and excels over man

Cassandra was a Trojan princess, the daughter of Priam and Hecuba. She was given the gift of prophecy by Apollo, but when she spurned his advances he cursed her so nobody would believe her prophecies. 

Allie has never know a world without Cassandra. Always Cassandra, never Cassie. Her first real memory is of the two of them slipping down the stairs early on Christmas morning, Allie was three to Cassandra’s four, and she can still feel the warmth of Cassandra’s hand in her, the softness of their slippers on the hardwood. Their parents had net even been mad when they caught them elbow deep in their stockings, mouths stained pink from candy canes. 

Cassandra never got into trouble. She was constantly saving Allie from trouble. 

When she was twelve she overheard a conversation between her mom and her uncle Rogers, her moms eldest brother, uncle Rogers had three kids who were almost a decade older than Campbell. They always felt like cousins of cousins. Never close the way Campbell and Sam were, shared grades and activities, memories at the beach house up in Nantucket. Even when Campbell was teasing or taunting, or annoying them, they had Sam. Sam was like their special cousin, they shared the same blue eyes. But, that night, when she was sneaking downstairs for an extra Halloween candy, Allie heard her uncle refer to her as the ‘afterthought’.

“It’s not like we were trying,” her mom laughed, “it was just hard to stay on top of birth control with Cassandra in and out of the hospital.”

It always came back to that. 

Her older sisters fragile heart. 

Everyone needs a flaw, Allie had mused last summer, when Cassandra had a viral infection in her chest and spent two weeks in New Haven at some fancy hospital. Cassandra was so wonderful at everything else, she needed something to make her human. Allie had stood two feet behind, and six inches to the right of Cassandra her whole life. When Cassandra won science fairs, debate teams, even mathalete competitions. She hadn’t minded. Honestly, she hadn’t. 

It was enough to be in her orbit. To bask in Cassandra’s sun, and watch her glow, golden in the light of whatever stage she fought her way onto. 

Cassandra was like a magnetic to Allie, pulling her in, sweeping her up. But, she understood why sometimes Cassandra pissed other people off. She was smarter and quicker, more precise and more level headed than anyone else Allie knew. Even her own parents. 

With a raised brow and low voice Cassandra could win any argument with them. She did, and she used that magic power for good, sharing her victories with Allie. Extra dessert, after dinner. Going to specific places for vacations. Extended curfew. 

They had been named after two of her mothers great aunts. Cassandra and Alexandria. When Allie had been obsessed with mythology in the third grade, she’s felt a small bubble of jealously that Cassandra was a character, and she was just a place. Cassandra was someone who could see the future, could tell the fates, was loved by a god. But that bubble had burst when she read about Troy. 

No one had listened to Cassandra. And the city fell. 

Allie thinks about story, that slice of her childhood when she rests on Cassandra’s grave. 

“I listened.” She whispered into the night. Tears gather in the shell of her ear, salty and thick, making her skin itch. “I’m listening Cassandra. I’ll always be listening.”

She walked home, alone in the dark, alone in the world, trying to make sense of her own mortality. In dark moments of her childhood and youth, she had imagine what life without Cassandra would be like. The gapping emptiness of it, the wrongness that made it hard to breath. Allie’s own death had never been a thought, but now with leadership on her narrow shoulders, she knew it was coming. 

She welcomed it in. 

In death, she’d be with Cassandra. 

Until then she just needed to keep everyone else alive, as long as she could. As well as she could. Until a bullet hurried itself in her chest. 

As she walked up her familiar driveway in the gathering dusk, Allie thought of that stain on the cement. The pool of blood. How Gordie has washed the blood from Cassandra’s hair as part of his autopsy. 

“I’ll see you soon Cassandra.” It was a promise. A feeling. Allie had very little time left.


	2. Gareth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gareth:
> 
> The name Gareth means Spear Rule and is of Welsh origin. Possibly a form of the name Garrett, or the Welsh word gwaredd meaning "gentle."
> 
> Gareth was a Knight of the Round Table in Arthurian legend.

Gareth:

The name Gareth means Spear Rule and is of Welsh origin. Possibly a form of the name Garrett, or the Welsh word gwaredd meaning "gentle."

Gareth was a Knight of the Round Table in Arthurian legend. 

Grizz remembers when he was little, so little, sitting in his fathers knees as they feed a baby squirrel together. They’d spent the day in the woods, hiking, and they had found the small red squirrel abandoned. His dad had wanted to leave it, but had relented when Gareth cried. 

Back then he was Gareth. Not Grizz. 

Small, dark haired, obsessed with tap dance. 

But he’d cared for that squirrel. Feed it from a eye dropper, kept it warm and safe. Released it when it was time. There was a lesson there, on letting go and holding on, Gareth just didn’t know it yet. 

“You were so gentle, so good with him!” His dad had been so pleased. So happy. That had made Gareth happy. 

Life had been simple then, before he’d realized sometime in the second grade that while he liked the little girls in his class, he didn’t care for them the way the other boys did. He cared about the boy bands his older cousin listened to, and the cute boy on Sonny with a Chance. 

Grizz watches as his friends fall in love, and out of it, in the span of a weekend. Jason is the worst. Obsessed with Cassandra Pressman one minute before fixating on Kelly. It’s exhausting. Maybe there is a small relief in not being out. 

Which isn’t to say Grizz doesn’t date. Doesn’t even get a little infatuated with some of the girls he hangs with. He sleeps with Claire Horton, a senior to his junior the night of homecoming because he’s curious, and she wants to. It’s not bad. It’s just not right. 

He’s happy with his books and his football. Spends his weekends outdoors and exploring. He’s happy there, in the mountains, on the water, on the field, with a book and some beer. 

He misses that. 

Even since the world tipped over, he misses the stillness. The slowness of dawn when he is out camping with his dad, but knows his mom is just a phone call away.

He’d made an escape plan, leave for college and never look back. That’s over now. He’s stuck in a world without higher education. 

Grizz still collects passages, and quotes, repeating them in his head as he does rounds, or guards Allie. Feels his heart beat kick up when he sees Sam, thinks of all the books he will never get to read now. He piles books by his bed, tucks them into pockets, raids Allie’s dad study. 

He mourns who he could have been. 

Allie slides a book to him one morning, not really looking at him. It’s small, an old paperback, pages yellowing at the edges. It’s C.S. Lewis, and like, Grizz loved Narnia, but he’s never read anything else by Lewis. She doesn’t say anything, just rubs her hand over his back as walks into the sitting room. 

He would die for Allie, if she asked. But he also knows she’d never ask. Maybe that’s why he thinks it. She wouldn’t want him to, she wouldn’t expect it. But he’d do it, if she needed him to. 

He thinks sometime that Allie Pressman might be one of the only people who actually sees him. 

He underlined a passage in A Grief Observed, “her absense was like the sky, spread over everything.” When he has finished the book, he slides it back to Allie in the same way, eyes averted, a simple hand on her back. 

When he finds the clearing in the woods, he thinks of Sam. Of the baby, and Becca. Of what his future might look like. He thinks of staying here and never going back, but then he remembers the brightness in Allie’s eyes, the way Helena holds her lips when she is thinking, how Clarke is big and stupid but sat with him under the tree he fell out of when he was seven, and waited until Grizz would breathe before getting an adult. He thinks of those slow dawns with Dad, and Emily dying in the woods. 

He has a tribe that he belongs to, even if it’s imperfect. 

Gareth thinks about his name means gentle. He thinks of the welsh word, gwaredd, and that squirrel he saved. Gentle doesn’t mean timid. Gentle doesn’t mean tame. It’s a choice. He chooses to be gentle with his words, and his heart, and his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I have a plot? Maybe.


	3. Alexandria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Allie:
> 
> The name Alexandria means Defender Of The People and is of Greek origin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t with these names and these characters.
> 
> Grizz x Allie as BFF is all I ever needed.

Allie:

The name Alexandria means Defender Of The People and is of Greek origin.

Allie dreams of Cassandra. 

They locked her up last night, not in Luke’s wine cellar, but in a panic room in a house down the street from Helena’s. She is alone, the door closed, sealing her in, Will somewhere else entirely. 

Cassandra is wearing her prom dress, and it is soaked in blood. Not stained with it, soaked in it, when she sits down by Allie on the cool floor, a puddle forms around her. Blood seeping closer and closer, the smell of pennies sticking in Allie’s throat. It seeps into the grout work and rushed towards Allie, who is frozen, head pillowed on her hands, waiting. 

She’s always waiting. 

It reaches her, and soaks into her skin. 

“What did you do Allie?” Cassandra’s eyes are so round and blue in the dark. Haunting. “How did this happen?”

She’s paralyzed. Frozen. She’s can’t move or speak, just lies there as tears leak from her eyes, trying to remember that this isn’t Cassandra. This isn’t her fault.

She makes a list in her head. A list of people who are at fault. 

Campbell. Lexie. Jason. Luke. Clarke. Harry. 

She thinks of his hand on her wrist when she visited him in bed, feels the friction from his fingers as he rubbed her skin. Remembers that he closed his eyes. 

She wants to puke. 

“Allie. You were supposed to protect them. You were supposed to protect me.”

Allie wakes with a start. She’s still on the floor, frozen, unmoving, still coated in blood. 

When she was seven or eight, Campbell had dared her to jump of the porch of their grandparents house. She had, because this was before she realized that Campbell was a dick, and that like, physics and gravity existed. Allie had slammed her face into a oak tree, and gotten her first nose bleed. 

They had persisted that whole summer. Unrelenting, sticky and cloying. Making her gag and ruin more summer dresses than she cares to remember. They almost never happen anymore. She’s had one in her sleep. Her face and sweater are soaked through with it, it’s matted and crusted in her hair. Allie curls in on herself, tired and homesick, lost and afraid. 

She gets food, water, and a bucket. It’s pushed in, by an unfamiliar hand, it’s owners face never peering round the corner. Allie thinks it’s been two days. Based on the food, and the way her body skips in and out of sleep. Whenever she closes her eyes she sees Cassandra. Dewey. Emily. Strangely she sees Grizz and Sam standing at one end of a long hallway, looking at each other, but using the sign for her name. 

It’s doesn’t mean anything other than that she’s tired and scared. But it makes her feel a little more settled, the last image of Grizz and Sam. Safe. Like somehow someone will get her out. 

What would be late afternoon on her third day, the door pushes all the way open and Jason and Clark enter, except they have balaclavas on. It’s pointless, she knows the slope of their shoulders, and their jeans, but Allie decides then and there that if they don’t want her to know it’s them, she’ll give them that. Jason pulls her to her feet, reattached the handcuffs and marches her to his Escalade. 

They don’t even have the brains to use an other car. 

They bring her to a anteroom off the back of the sanctuary, stand facing away from her. Allie tries think her way out of this. The blood could be a asset, she idly thinks, still feeling it is tight and cracking on her face and neck. Give her an edge for when they pull her out there. Because she hears the sounds of people coming in. It’s light and boisterous, a hungry edge to the words and tone. 

Allie thinks she hears Grizz. 

Please, she thinks, please let Grizz still be on my side. 

She hears the confident voice of Harry and the more manic lilt of Lexie, hears them say that Will has been put to garbage duty for his actions. Allie wonders what her punishment will be, she hears someone say Dewey, and she remembers that she set the president. 

Maybe they will kill her after all. 

Maybe she’s okay with that. She will be with Cassandra. 

“Hey,” she says, her voice hoarse and small in the room, “Jason? Can you bury me beside Cassandra.”

Jason turns to look at her, that stupid balaclava still on his face. It’s the first time he really takes her in, her blood stained face and hair, the wildness in her eyes. He seems shaken. 

“Please?”

“They’re not going to kill you.” It’s Clark, he sounds uncertain. 

“Campbell will find a way.”

This makes them both flinch. 

Before she can say anything else, they call for her, and Allie let’s Jason and Clark pull her upwards. When she is pulled onto the dais, the room stills, it happens in bits and pieces. Row by row. 

Lexie and Harry stare at her in open shock. They underestimated the fact that Jason and Clark wouldn’t be able to see the negative optics of this. Of her, like this. 

“Allie?” Harry’s voice is barely a croak, Allie decides then and there to not give him the time of fucking day. She doesn’t spare a glance, she’s scanning the room, looking for her people. 

Elle standing off to the side, Campbell’s’ arm tight around her neck, momentarily safe, but in grave danger. 

Will and Gordie sitting in the last row on the left, mostly unharmed. Looking concerned. 

Helena, hand in hand with Luke. Allie curls her lip at him, he feels the accusation, turning his face away. 

No Becca, no baby. No Sam. No Kelly. Good, Allie thinks, stay far away from this. Stay safe. 

Bean, small and concerned, her face drawn. 

Gretchen catches her eye, a look of solidarity in her features. Allie suddenly feels lighter. 

She clocks Grizz as he pushes his way to the front of the church. His letterman jacket is gone, a maroon puffy jacket in its place, and concern and anger in his eyes. 

“What have you done to her?”

A murmur grows. Grizz pushes past Luke and Shoe, gets in Jason’s face, reaching for Allie. His hand snags on her elbow for half a second before Jason is pushing him away, Allie feels that loss in her soul. There’s jostling and a moment of tension, where Clark catches her cheek with his elbow as he goes to help Jason. Allie falls back with a shout. 

Suddenly Harry is in front of her, his dark eyes wild and uncertain. 

“Don’t hurt him!” She shouts, and her voice still carries weight because for a moment everyone stills. “Don’t hurt Grizz!” His eyes find her and he ducks under Jason’s arms to crouch down beside her. His hands are gentle on her cheek, as he checks her face, Allie winces when his thumb presses on the cut over her eyebrow. 

Allie sees movement behind him, the Guard moving in. 

“I’ll be okay. Take care of Sam. Please!” Grizz is pulled backwards, his face anguished. A thought sparks in her brain, Grizz might be the only one who will understand enough to get the message to Sam, to Gordie, to Will. “A man cannot cross the same river twice!” 

Harry and Luke are half carrying her back of the door she was brought in from, on the far left Campbell is moving towards her, towards Grizz. 

“Do you understand?” Allie is scared of her own voice, of the way it break and creaks. “Grizz, do you understand?” Her vision is blurred by tears, Jason is shouting and pulling at Grizz; Allie pulls her hands up, makes the sign for Sam, the S close to her face. Grizz’s eyes spark. 

Campbell floats before her, she’s in the hallway now, her elbows bent unnaturally from Luke’s hold on her. In the gloom of the church hallway, Campbell’s eyes seem to glow an unearthly red. 

“Cousin.”

She thinks of spitting, paying him back for that thing with Elle, but decides to allow Luke and Harry to pull her away. You can’t change the heart of someone like Campbell. Allie doesn’t know how much fight she has left in her. 

Allie passes the car ride in her head. She blocks out the argument that Harry and Luke are having, rests her head down on the seats, thinks of what she asked Jason to do for her. Thinks of the cold earth beside Cassandra. 

It could be the sleep deprivation, or the rolling movement of the car, the head wound or the nose bleed, but Allie feels floaty and out of it when Luke pulls her from the backseat. He’s carrying her the way he carried Emily when she died, bridal style. 

“You have to bury me beside Cassandra. Promise?”

Harry sucks in air, “Jesus, Allie, we’re not burying anyone.”

Allie locks in on Luke’s eyes. 

“Promise me. Like you promised to be by my side. Promise me.”

Luke has tears in his eyes, but his voice is steady. “I promise, Allie.”

“Loyal until the end.” Her voice is light, more joking than mocking, and Allie watches in morbid fascination the way that Luke’s Adam’s apple bobs. “That’s worth something.”

Luke is carrying her up a set of unfamiliar stairs, Allie sees a picture of family dressed for Easter, all young kids. An other empty house. She aches for her room. For her clothes. For her mom. 

“What the fuck happened to your nose?”

“Campbell happened. It’s always Campbell.”

She is deposited on cool ceramic tiles, leans against a wall for support. Luke is shaking her shoulders. “Come on Allie, have a shower.” She cracks an eye, lifts her still bound wrists. Behind them Harry curses. 

“Fucking fuck. I hate this fucking place.” 

Allie wants to laugh, but it catches in her throat and sounds like a moan. Harry shoulders Luke aside and touches her face, Allie stills. She thinks of how he touched her in bed that night after fugitive, thinks of his hands in her hair. 

“Where are the keys Luke?”

“Give me a second.”

Luke leaves the room, phone pressed to one ear. It’s just her and Harry in the cream tiled washroom, his hand on her cheek. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing Al.”

Allie closes her eyes. 

Harry pulls back, she listens as he ruffles under the sink, feels him sit beside her, a plastic lid slapping her knees. First aid kit, the smell of antiseptic sharp in her nose. His hands are shaking when he dabs at her forehead. Allie’s crying, but it has nothing to do with the sting. 

“Don’t cry, Allie. Please.”

She keeps her eyes closed, and feels him move away from her. Water runs, and he returns with a warm face cloth, softly and slowly he wipes at her face. Twice he replaces the cloth, coming back with a new one to work on her chin and neck. It makes Allie think of her Dad, how he always took care of Cassandra after surgery. 

Her tears haven’t stopped. They’re slipping down her face at an alarming rate, Harry’s hand rest in her knees. They are warm and damp, which surprisingly make Allie sadder. 

“Allie.”

Helena and Luke returning save her from answering. Allie looks at them, Luke has tears steaming down his own face, Helena looks lost. Allie holds up her bound wrists. 

“Get out.” Helena takes over, pushing the boys out and closing the door. Allie sees the outline of a gun tucked into the waistband of Helena’s jeans. “Come on Allie, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Allie feels all of five years old as Helena commands the show. Quickly Helena removes the metal handcuffs, and turns to switch on the shower. She helps Allie peel off her sweater and shirt, stacks them by the sink, turns away when Allie kicks off her boots, jeans and shucks her bra and underwear. Allie is past caring, breezing last Helena and stepping into the shower. 

Water so hot is turns her skin pink, the water pooling at her feet is stained red from the blood in her hair. Allie chokes back her sob, bites her lip until she tastes blood, and tries to stay upright. She so tired. In her bones. Weary in her very soul. Allie sinks to the floor of the shower. 

“Shampoo, Allie.” Helena is firm but caring, separated by glass now beaded with water and gathering humidity. When Allie doesn’t move, Helena takes off her shirt, and leans in, arms getting wet as she pumps and pulls the shampoo through Allie’s hair. 

Helena is kind, taking softly to Allie about nothing in particular. She shampoos the hair three times and conditions it twice, using a pick to work out the snarls. 

“Come on, Allie,” she passes over a washcloth drenched in grapefruit soap, and when Allie doesn’t move she grabs one of Allie’s hands and makes her take it. 

Dispassionately Allie rubs her skin raw, soap swirling down the drain, Helena rinses her off, and turns of the water, handing Allie a fluffy yellow towel. 

“I can’t put those clothes back on.”

“I know.”

Helena leads her like a child from the bathroom, and into an adjoining bedroom, Harry and Luke are sitting on the bed. Allie freezes. 

Helena repeats the words she said earlier. “Get out.” And they listen. 

It must be the room the nanny or an pair lived it, because the clothes are all familiar brands and close enough in size that Allie can pretend she borrowing from a friend. She pulls on a sports bra and black underwear, a UConn sweat shirt and a pair of soft fleecy pyjama pants. 

“Can I braid your hair?”

Allie nods, and sit on the floor by the edge of the bed, tries to relax when Helena combs it out and twists it into two long braids. Cassandra used to do her hair like this, and Allie feels acutely sick when she looks in the mirror. 

“Thanks.”

Helena nods, “let’s find some food.”

Allie thinks of the handcuffs on the bathroom counter, and the gun at Helena’s waist, it’s not like she can say no.

Luke and Harry are in the kitchen, Luke staring out into the backyard, and Harry bouncing a knee from his perch on the counter. Allie hasn’t been alone since the night she laid on Cassandra’s grave, but with these people in this room, she has never felt more alone. 

“We’re heating up a freezer lasagna.”

Allie thinks of running for half a moment, while Helena is over by a cupboard pulling out plates. But, there’s nowhere to run to, nowhere left that’s safe. 

Harry pops open a bottle of wine, like this is some twisted version of a dinner party. 

The dining room is done in blues and greens, it reminds Allie of Grandmothers house in Nantucket, where she spent so much time with Cassandra, Sam and Campbell. The hot lasagna sticks in her throat, she swigs the wine to try and push it down and feels a bubble of panic when everything seems to press against her throat in an uncomfortable way. 

Death by lasagna seems especially macabre. 

Painfully she forces the bite down. 

“What’s going to happen to me?”

No one meets her eyes. 

“We’ve got about twenty minutes.” It’s Helena who answers. Allie watches Harry push food around on the plate, doesn’t miss the way Luke has not even touched his. 

“Can you tell me how the baby is? Becca?”

“They’re fine. Recovering at Becca’s. Kelly is with them. Gordie checking in.”

Allie holds Helena’s stare. 

“That’s good.”

Harry pushes his phone towards her, there’s a text thread from Kelly, pictures of a small, squishy baby in Becca’s arms. Sam’s tender face as he looks down at the baby. She taps the screen, uses her fingers to zoom in, stares in wonder down at the small screen of baby and her favourite cousin. 

“Eden.” Allie looks at Harry, “they named her Eden.”

Luke’s phone is going off from a series of texts, he slides it towards Helena who draws her brows together. 

“They’ll be here soon.”

“I need socks.”

Helena herds her up the stairs, they find socks, and a puffy coat in the palest shade of blue. Allie bundles up while Helena grabs her boots from the bathroom, she sees the metal of the handcuffs tucked in Helena’s sleeve when she passes the boots over. 

They stand awkwardly in the hall, Harry, Luke and Helena watching her pull on the boots, and Allie decides to make it easy, holds her wrists in front of her. Helena holds her gaze while snaps the cuffs in place, Allie thinks she respects that more than the ducking heads of the boys. Impulsively Helena crushes her into a hug, Allie’s hands caught between them. 

Panic is building behind her eyes, a weird sort of tension humming in Allie’s ears. She has a feeling that it’s going to be Campbell who comes for her. She turns swiftly to Luke, grabs ahold of his sleeve. 

“You promised.” Luke swallows. Allie’s persists, “don’t break this promise.”

Harry tosses his head, “no one is dying, Allie.”

“I forgive you.” Allie ignores Harry and Helena, her hand still clutching Luke’s shirt sleeve. “You have to know, I forgive you.”

Luke pulls her towards him, his breath hot on her ear. “I’m sorry.”

Lights from the driveway float through the glass door. They are here. Allie pushes Luke away, wants to face what ever happens standing on her own two feet. They’re getting closer to the door, the balaclavas are back, but she doesn’t recognize the figures. She supposes that makes this easier. 

“Allie.” Harry says her name, she spares him a glance. He looks pale, drawn out, and Allie hates him. 

“You’re making the calls now, Bingham.”

Rough hands settle on her elbows and frogmarch her to the waiting SUV, when they pull open the back door Campbell grins at her from the far side, slouchy and unruffled. 

“Hello, Allie. Fancy seeing you here.”

Chaos breaks out behind her, she hears Harry shouting, Luke drowning him out, they spill from the house in their stocking feet, but the Guard is quicker. She’s shoved in, and whisked away, the last image she sees is Harry, Luke and Helena shoeless on the damp cement, still yelling as they back up, and drive away. 

Luke promised her that spot beside Cassandra. Allie holds onto that as they fly down the road. She did her best, she lead them even though it just might have cost her everything. 

Even her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? I have a list of names to work through...


End file.
